


Blood is Thicker

by PuddinPop



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Biting, Blood, Blowjobs, Bottom Castiel, Cas would do anything for Dean, Dean doesn't care, Demon Dean, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon Sex, Depressed Castiel, Destiel - Freeform, Graceless Castiel, M/M, Mentions of Dean/Crowley, Mild Blood, Rough Sex, S10 Canon Divergence, Sam is blissfully unaware, Secret Sex, Sex shame, Sick Cas, Sick Castiel, Top Dean, graceless cas, handjobs, happy Destiel at the end, not very happy Destiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-19 10:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5963848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuddinPop/pseuds/PuddinPop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel would have done anything for Dean. It was the same story, ever since they had met. But after finding Dean when he disappeared with Crowley, Castiel's loyalty is put to the test and he begins to question just how far he is willing to go to appease the now-demon. Thrown into a world of blood, sex, lies, secrecy and deceit, Castiel is faced with his toughest decision yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've had floating around in my head for what feels like forever now, but I only just got around to posting it.  
> It was actually inspired by the song The Hills by Eminem and The Weeknd. I get inspired by songs a lot.  
> Anyway, this first part is a little short and probably a little slow. I will try to update as much as possible but to say this has taken me like, 3 days, it might not be as often as I would like xDD but I will try my best.

Sleep was a relative thing to Castiel.  
  
There had been a time when he hadn’t required it at all, when he first came to earth, boasting his celestial prowess like the true soldier that he was. Strong and infallible, a true angel, not needing to succumb to any aspect of humanity, his abilities reigning champion over any pathetic needs or desires that the human body required for survival.  
  
Then, there had been times when he wouldn’t have survived without it, back when Metatron stripped him of his grace and forced him to wander as a human, without a shred of angelic ability within him. Back when he needed to sleep, eat, drink and carry out every other aspect of humanity in order to maintain survival.  
  
And then there were times like the present, where it wasn’t  _essential_  for his survival but it definitely helped with the healing process, piecing back together the shattered fragments of his former self.  
  
At present, he didn’t  _need_  to sleep but he actively chose to, purely for his own reflection and solace. Not to mention that functioning on borrowed grace definitely drained his energy levels, eliciting a drag on his muscles and chipping away at any last lingering tendrils of his stamina. He had learned that the foolhardy attitude of forcing himself through afflictions and turmoil whilst exhausted was reckless and never ended positively. It just resulted in lapses in focus, mistakes being made and threats to the entire existence of the world. Sleep wasn’t a way of preventing any of this, but it definitely helped to go into a dangerous situation with bright eyes and a clear mind as opposed to a fuzzy haze and weary focus. He lamented the days in which he was too proud to succumb to human behaviours, especially those that assisted him, the very thought of doing so churning his gut and forcing a froth of anger to welt up inside of him but that was no longer Castiel. Castiel was now unashamed to admit to having needs, regardless of how ‘human’ they made him.  
  
But despite the physical advantages sleep offered him, Castiel also liked to dream. When he was a full-throttle angel, he had never experienced dreams (predominantly due to the fact that he never slept) and when he became human, they were always frayed with images of the Winchesters, showered with hot rain that soaked him through like blood and distant whispers of his fallen brethren echoing around him, the ones which he had slain or died for their mission. He did not like to dream when he was a human but now that he was an angel once more – albeit an angel with temporary grace – he could take comfort in the dreams. They provided him with an outlet, an escape from reality because as Castiel was then, his reality was something which he would have preferred to escape from.  
  
He was lost in one of his dreams when it happened. It appeared to be pleasant enough, leaving him with a warm calmness inside of him while he slept but when he woke, he could not recall the details of what it had been about. It wasn’t all that often that he remembered what he had been dreaming about, but he could often tell by the after-feelings whether it had been a nice dream, unlike the nightmares which frequented more often than he would have cared for.  
  
It was a low, shrill buzz that pulled him away from his solace in sleep, a noise that wasn’t particularly loud but strong. It echoed around the small room in which he claimed as his own in the bunker, and for a moment, confusion reigned over him as to what was happening. After groggily opening his eyes, Castiel channeled his senses and realized that the noise had come from his nightstand, and more specifically, his phone.  
  
He picked it up and clicked the lock button, squinting his eyes against the brightness the phone emitted against the black of the room. Squinting harder, trying to focus his vision which was blurred with sleep, the digits of the clock came into focus before blurring out again. 03:32. Almost right on time. Cas thumbed in his lock code and opened up his messages, seeing the same words that had been sent to him around this time every day for the past week.  
  
_Randall’s Steak Hut. Lincoln, NE. Alone. Now._  
  
The location changed with each message but it was always the same tone, the same words, even the same order. If Castiel had not known the sender, he would have considered it to be automated. But he knew that was not the case. For it wasn’t some random automated service or telemarketer.  
  
Pulling himself up into a sitting position, legs swinging over the side of the bed, Castiel coughed into his fist, the sound dry and rattling, relenting for a minute until he eventually stopped, leaving himself gasping and wheezing against the tightness in his chest. The cold contrast of the room now that the blankets had fallen from him caused him to shiver, inciting the temptation to crawl back under the covers and hide there until the world ended or worse. But he couldn't. He could feel how low his grace was running, verging on empty and it was taking its toll on his vessel. He had concluded that if he continued on at this rate, he would end up dead within a week, unless he managed to secure another angel's grace or find his own. But his hunt for Metatron had been put on hold temporarily. At least until he had dealt with his current predicament. He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the buzzing again, whipping his phone up instantly and checking the screen once more.  
  
_You coming or not?_  
  
Groaning inwardly, Castiel unlocked the screen and began typing in a response.  
  
Yes.  
  
He would have elaborated further but he felt too run down, too tired and too melancholy so he just pressed send. Despite his best attempts to sleep while he still could, it was always disturbed at unreasonable hours of the morning by the same messages. To avoid questions from Sam, Castiel had not been able to retreat to the bedroom until around 11pm at the earliest, meaning that he was lucky to grab 5 hours sleep a night. And sleeping so little with such a diminishing condition meant that Castiel was becoming weaker and weaker by the day, his stamina relinquishing at a much quicker rate than if he had just continued to hunt with Sam.  
  
But he was not allowed that. Not anymore.  
  
One final buzz of his phone lit up the message:  
  
_Good. And remember. Not a word to Sam._  
  
Castiel sighed as he forced himself to his feet, weaving slightly in the middle of the room. He dressed quickly, not bothering to comb his hair - it would just get messed anyway - and tiptoed out into the kitchen, flicking on the light and grabbing a pen to write a note on the pad of paper on the fridge.  
  
_Sam,_  
  
_Left early. Got a lead on Metatron. Will be back by evening. Call only if you need to._  
  
_C._  
  
Note suitably scrawled, coat hunched around his shoulders, keys in hand and phone in pocket, Cas exited the bunker, his stomach knotting for the entire journey. He never knew what to expect when he arrived. He just hoped that it would be gentler than the previous time.


	2. More Lost Than Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finds more than he was looking for.

Castiel lamented having a reasonably long drive ahead of him. It wasn’t long in comparison to the ground that they usually covered when working a case, but his deteriorating condition meant that anything longer than a few minutes was a physical struggle. His destination was just over an hour away from the bunker but with the way he felt, each minute felt like an hour, time a physical drag against his skin and bones.   
  
Though at least it gave him time to think, time to reflect… time to repent.  
  
The truth was, despite what he had detailed in his note to Sam, Cas did not have a lead on Metatron. He hadn’t had a substantial lead in days, contrary to what he kept telling the younger Winchester. In actuality, he had abandoned his mission to seek out his grace a number of days ago, deserting even his quest to look for any kind of intimation as to its location. It seemed like a trivial feat in comparison.  
  
There were just two objects of his desire left in the world: one inanimate and one living. Both were essential to ensure his survival, both of them keeping him alive in very different ways. Without his grace, he was soon to flounder, wilt into nothing more than the fragments of the former angel he once was until he was reduced to nothing. But without Dean, Castiel had no mission, no purpose. If he did not have Dean, he had no reason to keep himself alive. He had spent so long protecting Dean, looking out for Dean, _living_ for Dean, that if he was gone, he would not wish to live anymore. He had abandoned heaven, having been denounced long ago, so he would have nowhere to go. In the past, he had argued that if it were not for himself, Dean would not be alive, but the reverse could not have been truer. But he knew that once he had his grace, he could scour the earth in search of Dean, locating him in an instant. Which is why that took a higher priority than finding Dean initially. Which is why it was such a shock when Cas had unintentionally and unexpectedly stumbled upon Dean’s whereabouts.  
  
When Castiel had found Dean, it had been ironically the one occasion where he hadn’t been looking for the hunter, having been given some insight into Metatron’s location and driven out of State to check it out. He had ended up in a rogue bar on the outskirts of a rural town in Nebraska, stopping only to question locals and perhaps eat something to replenish his energy levels, when he had heard a voice shouting from across the bar which sounded hauntingly familiar. After casting his eyes over, he first noticed Crowley perched on a barstool with Dean at his heel, arguing with one of the bartenders. There was something within Cas that had told him to run and never look back, sensing that there was something within Dean that was... changed, different. Not quite Dean. Running on borrowed, fleeting grace and not having had his full capacity angel powers, Castiel could not determine from that distance exactly what it was within Dean that had changed, but there was definitely _something_ present within him which hasn't been there before. A kind of… bleak outlook, a black aura that shrouded him but Castiel was so far away from the host that it could have been anything or nothing. Whatever it was, it boasted bad news but Cas could not ascertain why.  
  
He remembered the time that Dean had taught him about a ‘gut feeling’. It was an incident after Dean had captured a monster – a rugaru if Castiel had not been mistaken – despite both Cas and Sam arguing that they thought Dean had the right person. Dean had proven himself right and when Cas had asked how he knew, Dean had gone into great details about him having a ‘gut feeling’ about the guy. At the time, Castiel had not understood, but as time had progressed and the more hunts that he had attended, he began to understand what Dean had been trying to show him. When fighting alongside the angels, Castiel had always taken things on face-value and had admittedly been naïve and gullible, trusting other people’s words and the laymen’s appearance of a situation which often contradicted the result as opposed to considering other possibilities. Having become more mature and wiser, Cas now realized that this was not always constructive and was often wrong. He had learned from Dean that if there was a bad vibe or feel to something, then that instinct was probably correct. Castiel had considered it to be a very human outlook, but it was one which he accepted and adorned himself, trusting himself in situations that he would have otherwise approached differently.

Which is why Cas felt a little guilty staying in this current location. He felt like he was rebelling, betraying what Dean had taught him. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to leave but Cas relented and stayed put, biding his time and awaiting the perfect opportunity to capture Dean alone. He was probably reckless for keeping himself in the proximity of several other demons – despite his dwindling prowess, he had located several of them littered about the room, skulking in and out between booths – but he was not foolish; he knew not to appear before them openly in such a vulnerable condition. With his grace situation, he appeared to an untrained eye to be just a sick human but to a demon, it would be obvious that he was weak and enfeebled, susceptible and vulnerable, primed for attack.

After hiding himself away in a booth to the side of the room for what felt like hours, Castiel finally noticed Crowley stand, apparently leaving. He hid himself behind a drinks menu but later learned that it was unnecessary as Crowley walked to the doors at the other side of the room with two others demons in toe. Dean had since secured himself atop a bar stool, knocking back glass after glass of what appeared to be whiskey.

Grabbing the opportunity while he still could, Castiel had risen to his feet and stalked himself over to Dean's side, not caring if he was spotted by any demons. He kind of knew that deep down, Dean wouldn't allow any harm to come to him so he trusted the hunter's security when he sidled up beside him. Besides, for all he knew, Dean was being kept captive by these demons and Cas would have to be the one who would need to protect him. Though that thought definitely churned Cas's gut at considering needing to take out any number of demons in such a weakened condition. Frankly, taking out one would have been a monumental challenge.   
  
Having apparently gone unnoticed after standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder, Castiel's throat bobbed with a nervous swallow, his pulse racing from both elation at having found Dean and also trepidation of what was to follow. But he pushed aside the mountain of questions that he wanted to demand answers to in favour of addressing him first.

"Hello, Dean."

At the sound, Dean barely turned his head, green eyes flicking towards Cas for a moment before resting back on his glass as he took another swallow, as though he wasn’t even vaguely surprised to see him there, almost as though he had been expecting him.

"Hey, Cas." Dean spoke as though it had only been minutes since they last spoke, his voice level and nonchalant. It cracked a shiver up Cas's spine, but for what reason, he could not determine. There just seemed to be something _off_ about Dean, something that he couldn't quite pinpoint. His head felt fuzzy from his diminishing grace, thoughts whirring inside his mind, making it difficult to corral his thoughts into anything comprehensible.   
  
There was a tirade of emotions building up inside of Cas, but out of all of them, he mainly felt relief. Relieved that Dean was alive but above all else, relieved that Dean was Dean. The thoughts had crossed his mind that some punk-ass demon was riding around in Dean’s meat-suit, and despite the fact that it wasn’t a complete impossibility, something told Cas that this was Dean. Possibly a different Dean to the one he knew, but Dean all the same.   
  
Feeling slightly awkward, Castiel shuffled on his feet, looking over his shoulder to make sure that they would remain alone. He couldn’t spot any of the other pack of demons, only a few rogue travelers littered about the place. Giddy trepidation rose up inside of him, forcing him to place a hand on Dean’s shoulder before he could help himself. He was just so happy to have found one of the things that he had spent so long looking for, it almost made the hunt for his grace trivial.   
  
“Dean, I-“  
  
He was cut short when Dean snapped his head to the side, looking down at Castiel’s hand and emitted a noise that Cas had never heard the hunter emit before. For a split second, Cas thought that Dean had growled, deep and low in his throat with such vehemence that it didn’t seem possible for a human to produce such a sound.   
  
Reactively snapping his hand back, Cas raised his eyes to lock onto Dean’s, who had now begun to swivel around and was facing the angel square-on. It was the first time Castiel had looked at the hunter since being in the bar and the sight made him actually stagger back a step or two, his face paling as his heart dropped to his stomach. His grace may have been fleeting but he could still see Dean’s face, his _true_ face beneath the fleshy facade. It was twisted, convoluted and gruesome, emitting an evil aura which Cas was actually quite surprised that he hadn’t picked up on before. He had probably been so overwhelmed by positive feelings at having found Dean that they had masked his suspicions, forcing him not to believe the truth even as it was showing right before him but there was no denying the truth: Dean was a demon.  
  
He didn’t know why it had surprised him; Cas had witnessed what the Mark had done to Cain when it had happened, he knew that the Mark bore nothing but demon spawn, but he could not help his surprise. Maybe he had been in denial, choosing not to believe that such a nihilistic fate awaited Dean. Castiel could almost have accepted the fact that Dean was gone and some jacked-up demon was riding around in his bones (not that it would have been easy; the thought still incited a shred of terror within Cas) but the fact that the face showing beneath the skin was definitely Dean’s was both terrifying and devastating. Cas felt his entire world crumble around him as he continued to stare at the demon, unable to move, unable to speak, just stand and stare, trembling slightly from a combination of fear and anguish.   
  
It was only when Dean rose to his feet, towering over Cas with a smug, wry smile on his lips that Cas decided to speak.  
  
“Dean, what-… what happened?” It was all he could say. There were so many thoughts jolting through Castiel’s mind in that moment but that seemed like the most important. What exactly had happened to the hunter to force him to be such a… monster? That seemed a little harsh, considering that Castiel had only met _this_ Dean for the first time minutes ago, but from experience, he knew that nothing good was ever born from a demon soul. Only lies, deception and pain.   
  
Before Dean could answer, the sound of shattering glass and people shouting could be heard from the side of them and as they both glanced over, they could see a large, leather-clad man squaring up for a fight with someone else of equal stature. Cas continued to stare until he jumped at a weight on his shoulder. His nerves were in tatters and each sound, movement or presence was disconcerting for him but after looking down and seeing it was Dean’s hand, he relaxed… slightly. His jaw was still locked against the almost-violent tremors his body was emitting at being in the presence of a demon.  
  
And he jumped again when Dean spoke, not having realized that his eyes had been kept on the hand resting upon until he heard it, raising his glance to meet with Dean’s.  
  
“C'mon. Let's go somewhere more… _'private'_.” Dean motioned with his eyes to the side of the bar. Looking across, Castiel noticed a wooden door, presumably leading to wherever Dean wanted to take him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had within him that was screaming at him to run, to get back to Sam and return with backup and better preparations but the concern that if he left, he would never find Dean again outweighed that feeling and he felt himself trudging his feet forwards, Dean’s hand staying on his shoulder as he was ushered towards the door.  
  
Given the strength behind Dean’s touch, Castiel considered the possibility that he wouldn’t have been able to flee, even if he had tried. Dean wasn’t exactly gripping Cas with too much ferocity, but there was a distinct power that was flowing outwards from within him, snaking its way from his hand into Cas’s core and it just accentuated the rife feeling of dread within.  
  
Once through the door, Castiel’s pulse continued to hammer, his brow now slick with sweat from a combination of the budding sickness within him from the lack of his own grace and his own sense of dread. The door hid a modest-looking hallway, mostly bare with a staircase going up to another floor. It had a feel of a struggling motel and after being coerced up the stairs by Dean’s forceful nudges, Cas concluded that it probably was. Once upstairs, Cas coughed violently a couple of times, gasping for breath from the short walk up the steps and the tightness in his chest, as he was pushed forwards, Dean's pressure in his back accentuating with each cough.The upstairs hallway boasted a long corridor with a set of doors on either side, indicating that this was the guest part of the diner. It felt strange to think that Dean was staying here as he was – these were the kinds of places that they often stayed when out on hunts – but the growing fuzz in his head, the breathless ache in his chest and weary fatigue in his bones prevented Cas from elaborating on the thought any more. Instead, he just allowed Dean to guide him down the hallway, both of them remaining silent for the entirety of the short journey.   
  
They kept walking until they got to a room right at the end and Dean stopped pushing Cas just as he was centimeters away from being hurled into the wall. Taking the opportunity where he could, Cas rested his back against the coolness the wall offered as he waited for Dean to pull out a key and unlock the door. He was so exhausted, drained from the traveling and the weight of the situation at having found Dean that all he wanted to do was curl up on the bed and sleep for a few hours. It could have been possible if Dean would allow it but Cas was too afraid to ask. He hadn’t been able to properly gauge Dean’s demeanour just yet but he considered that it probably wouldn’t be the most friendly, given the roughage to his touch as he had coerced Cas upstairs. But he couldn’t speculate too much without having hearing Dean’s story first.  
  
Once inside the room, Castiel noticed how trashed it appeared to be. The bed sheets were barely clinging to the edge of the bed, empty liquor bottles littered the floors and there were take-out cartons scattered across each surface that was available. The thought never occurred to Cas that Dean wouldn’t have eaten, given his new status, but it would be something which would become more apparent the more he got to know him.   
  
The smell hit him like a punch in the face and Cas actually wrinkled his nose as it was met with rotting food and something else which he couldn’t quite determine. It was similar to the smell of sweat but much sweeter, almost like purified sugar in the air that left a bitter aftertaste. Before he could move from the spot he had claimed as his own in the centre of the room, he felt a hand around his wrist, reeling back slightly at the contact. He was still jittery, on edge, not quite sure what to make of the situation. He had allowed himself to be ushered into a demon’s lair, having no protection aside from his angel blade which he stroked against his fingertips from its place up his sleeve. The last thing he would have wanted was to use the thing on Dean, but if this thing showed even just one indication that it wasn’t Dean…  
  
“Hey. Sit down.” Dean spoke as Castiel looked down to see Dean’s fingers locked around his wrist, tugging it down to seat beside him. Cas had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed Dean sit on the edge of the bed. The sound of his voice surprised the angel; it sounded so level, so calm, so… Dean. Just as he was before. He wasn’t sure why this was a surprise but after seeing what demons do to humans and after witnessing the guttural growl emitted from Dean just moments prior, Cas was definitely skeptical. But the voice was soothing, drawing Cas in and making him forget for just one fleeting moment that he was alone with a demon.   
  
He wordlessly complied, perching on the edge of the bed with a frigid stiffness that spoke volumes of his apprehension but Dean either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Regardless, he seemingly ignored Cas’s body language and leaned closer, close enough so that Cas could smell the decay of death, the corruption of his soul and the darkness within. It was intermingled with Dean’s usual smell of whiskey, cologne and sweat but mixed with the demon blood, it was almost rancid to Castiel’s senses, yet he found himself leaning closer, pulled in by what felt like an invisible force. Loathe as he was to be close to a demon, he couldn’t deny the desire within him to be close to Dean. And this was Dean, he kept reminding himself of this fact. A very lost, very broken Dean.   
  
He was startled for what felt like the 50 th time in the past 30 minutes by Dean placing his hand on Cas’s leg, the touch electric yet sinister. Every word, every touch from Dean in this state was a contradiction, both endearing and repellent simultaneously and much as Cas hated to admit to it, there was something strangely addictive about having Dean touch him, talk to him. He considered that this was probably just the effect that demons had on angels – he had been toxically drawn to Meg, after all – but he sensed that there was something more than that.  
  
The truth was that Cas had longed to be with Dean since they had resided in Purgatory together. Something had changed between them in their time spent there and ever since, Cas had wanted Dean and spent many nights fantasizing about what it would be like to have Dean as his. To start with, it had been driven by pure lust but after time progressed, it had developed into something much more and Cas had found that his feelings towards the hunter had blossomed into something which he neither cared for nor understood. They didn’t have time to be fooling around with petty emotions and trivial yearnings. So he had kept it all to himself, not burdening either Sam or Dean with his feelings but that didn’t stop him fantasizing. Though sex never came into his thoughts. He wanted Dean to be with him but physical interaction was not something which he ever contemplated. Especially after the incident with April, the thought of sex was a little repellent, given that it was such an unpleasant experience, so his thoughts were often driven by the desire to have Dean to hold, to care for and have him care for the angel with such intimacy that only lovers could offer. He had seen it enough times between humans to know what it was and that he wanted it. But he never acted on it, partly because he didn’t understand himself the feelings that he had but predominantly because he had convinced himself that his feelings were unrequited. Dean had never shown him any inclination that he felt the same way towards Castiel and to save himself embarrassment and rejection, he just kept it to himself, intending on taking it to his grave.  
  
Which is why when Dean placed his hand so intimately on Cas’s thigh, all negative thoughts about Dean’s demonic stature were momentarily quashed in favour of allowing pleasant thoughts and emotions to overcome him.   
  
Castiel looked down at the hand, still aware of the quickness his pulse was boasting but it was then more from anticipation than trepidation. He shakily placed his own hand atop Dean’s, embarrassingly aware of how clammy and feeble it must have felt but in that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had Dean, regardless of his condition, and that’s all that mattered to him in that moment.   
  
Cas felt himself swallow against a raw throat, the sensation rough and clamouring against the torn tissue, raw and abused from bouts of coughing. His dwindling grace was having an adverse effect on his vessel, forcing it into a sickened state of pitiful humanity. But he swallowed it down, wincing in the process before attempting to speak, his voice an octave or two lower than its usual pitch.  
  
“Dean. I-.. I’ve..”   
  
“Shh.” Dean lifted his free hand up to press one finger against Cas’s lips, silencing the angel instantly. Dean’s skin felt rough and cold, almost unforgivingly so against the heat of Cas’s face. He was probably running a fever but it was impossible to ascertain given that his grace meant that his vessel was consistently burning hot. As Dean lowered his hand to tilt Cas’s chin up with two fingers, he felt himself close his eyes, sighing against the cool relief of Dean’s skin. It did nothing to steady to pulse, only having an adverse effect, but the touch alone lulled Cas closer, forcing him into what felt like a false sense of security. He would have liked to have claimed that his senses were on the alert, wary to anything untoward happening but they weren’t; he was tired, sick and emotionally drained. He would have believed anything that Dean told him in that moment.  
  
But Dean didn’t say anything.  
  
He didn’t need to. Despite Cas keeping his eyes closed, he could feel the soft hush of breath against his lips, smell the sharp scent of whiskey through the warmth of the air, ascertain something drawing closer and closer to his face.  
  
Then there was something pressed to his lips.  
  
It was something soft yet firm, dry and collous but addictively supple. It was only after a second that Cas forced his eyes open against the protest of his lids, begging to be reclosed but he relented. Everything was too close to focus on properly, but he could establish an expanse of golden skin, freckles spattered across it like blood on sand, dark lashes hiding hungry eyes. It was Dean, and he was kissing Castiel. The hunter had his eyes closed and was crushing his lips to Cas’s, not moving, just… resting, staying put in their position there, pressing to him harder with each exhale. When realization dawned, Cas ignored his instincts to question why Dean was _kissing_ him, allowing them to be pushed aside by sheer elation at having Dean before him, touching him. He followed Dean’s lead and closed his own eyes, allowing his lips to slot in place against Dean’s as he mirrored the gesture and forced himself further against Dean’s awaiting mouth.  
  
There was a quick flick of Dean’s tongue against Cas’s lips, teasing the crease between them and forcing them open, grazing against his teeth before delving inside, dancing against Cas’s own tongue.   
  
It was at that point that Cas’s breathing became almost erratic, forcing him to breathe quickly through his nose and feeling as though he was suffocating in the process. He forced a hand up to Dean’s chest, pushing against him with a gentle force that was just enough to inch the hunter away a little. He pulled his head back, eyes opening as he stared at Dean, gasping for breath. Dean’s eyes were now wide and focused on him, but Cas couldn’t quite determine the emotion. There were mixings of anger, bewilderment and betrayal but Cas’s stomach flipped when he thought he sensed a slight flicker of dejection. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on it though; his human intuition was questionable at the best of times, he didn’t want to chance making assumptions about what a human-turned-demon was feeling.  
  
Instead, he just thumped his lips, the taste of Dean still rife on them and turned to look at the hunter straight in the eyes.  
  
“Dean. I was so worried, I… I didn’t know what to do. I-.. I’m sorry, that… that won’t happen again.”  
  
Cas was mildly surprised when a low chuckle could be heard to the side of him and he raised his eyes, squinting at Dean questioningly. Dean did nothing except lean himself closer, placing his other hand down into Cas’s lap before looking straight up into the angel’s eyes, that tight-lipped smile snagging at the corners of his mouth once more.  
  
“Cas. I missed you.”   
  
They were the only words that were spoken before Dean wove a hand up to the back of Castiel’s head and pulled the angel towards his waiting lips once more, kissing him with more passion and vigor than previously. It actually stole Cas’s breath, forcing him to gasp through his mouth as Dean reverted back to snaking his tongue back into Cas’s mouth. Cas tried to speak through the kiss, tried to tell Dean that he had missed him too but it was an impossible task, the only words he was able to make being smothered by the presence of Dean’s tongue, making them indecipherable.   
  
He tried to pull his head back a couple of times to steal a gasp of air, but each time he did, Dean’s hand pulled him back harder until he gave up completely, relinquishing to Dean’s lead and kissing the hunter back. Castiel knew he was not a prolific kisser, only ever having kissed Meg and April before, but after a few awkward seconds of maneuvering around Dean’s lips, he managed to fall into a rhythmic pattern, breathing through his nose when their mouths were sealed tight together and stealing a breath through his mouth when they parted slightly. It was an even routine of opening their mouths slightly, forcing their tongues against each other inside the other’s mouth, dancing together briefly before their mouths closed, remaining crushed together fervently and the routine repeated itself.  
  
It seemed to go on for what felt like simultaneously too long and not long enough at the same time. Cas had fantasized about this moment on so many nights after he escaped Purgatory but never envisioned it ever coming to fruition. He never considered the possibility of Dean ever reciprocating the feelings Castiel had towards him and despite his initial apprehension, Cas soon found himself enjoying the moment more and more with each passing second. It wasn’t long before he allowed one hand to rise up and cusp the curvature of Dean’s jaw, just resting there but pulling him closer when the opportunity necessitated it.   
  
He couldn’t shake that dark, sickly ambience that Dean was emitting but he selectively ignored it in favour of reveling in the moment; Dean’s lips, Dean’s touch, Dean’s scent, Dean’s _taste_. In that moment, it was all his for the taking and he lapped it with all the hunger of a starving man. All his weaknesses, the sickness in which he had felt was all forgotten, replaced by a sense of attainment and It was a moment he hadn’t realized that he had been waiting for all this time, just himself and Dean. He wondered why he had never thought of this with Dean when he had kissed Meg but none of that really mattered. He was here with Dean, touching him, kissing him. Even knowing what Dean went through or why he had been away for so long seemed irrelevant to Castiel in that moment. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. There was no past, no future. Just the present moment, everything else washed away in a sea of appetency.   
  
Cas was only taken out of the moment when he felt one of Dean’s hands shift, not even realizing that it was still rested atop his own. It slid away from its place on Cas’s hand up his thigh, fingertips brushing against the fabric of his pants until it pressed down, firm and with intent, palm heeling between his legs as knuckles grazed the clasp of his belt.   
  
The notion caused Cas’s entire demeanour to stiffen, his eyes widening as he pulled away from Dean’s lips. He pulse had since lulled from the calm atmosphere he had created for him and Dean during the kiss but it soon picked up momentum once more when Dean’s hand continued to shift, palm caressing across the entirety of Cas’s crotch, fingers intermittently clasping and loosening. Dean was eyeing Cas with a side-glance, that thin smile still snagging his parted lips as teeth gently rested against his lower lip. His eyes were narrowed but they had an air of longing to them; Cas considered that if his own feelings could be personified, they would look exactly as Dean did in that moment: hungry, desperate and amorous.  
  
Despite every coherent sense he had within him telling him to put a stop to it, Castiel couldn’t deny that he felt his body reacting to the pressure, feeling himself growing hot and hard beneath his pants as they chafed against him uncomfortably. Though Dean’s hand was definitely helping alleviate some of the tension, even if it was accentuating the friction. He couldn’t lie to himself; it felt damn good, but for the first time that day, his rationality won out over his aching desire, his yearning to be with Dean. He had never considered having sex with Dean before but in an instant, that innocence and chastity was taken from him. But it wasn’t enough for him to allow himself to succumb.   
  
Groaning inwardly as a particularly pleasant stroke sidled across his unintentionally stiffening erection, Dean’s thumb chafing against the swollen tip, Castiel gathered the remnants of his frayed nerves and placed his hand on Dean’s, indicating for him to stop. His eyes locked with Dean’s, his breath quick and shallow, a slick film of sweat coating his brow as his hand trembled upon Dean’s. But Dean looked calm, his chest rising and falling slowly in rhythm with his breathing, his posture almost slumped, his entire countenance lax. He gave the impression that he had done this many times before and whilst Castiel had no doubt that Dean was fairly promiscuous, it unsettled him to think that he was so lackadaisical about their situation.  
  
He cleared his throat against the forgotten pain before swallowing, his eyes flitting downwards to the floor as he shifted uncomfortably.  
  
“Dean..? What are you-..” His voice was thick against a swollen tongue, cracking slightly even against the few syllables he managed to whisper. As before, he was disallowed to speak anymore as Dean pushed his hand away, forcing his palm back to its place against his erection once more as he uttered a low chuckle in his throat, leaning closer until his breath kissed the sweat-slick skin of Cas’s face.  
  
“Cas…” Dean’s voice was hushed, barely a whisper, strained from his evident arousal. The hunter closed his eyes as he licked his lips, his tongue grazing against Cas’s coyly before continuing, his fingers now nimbly toying with the belt buckle, flicking and tugging at it until it unclasped, forcing Cas to sigh in relief at the release of constriction. “Cas, I’ve wanted you for so long. Missed you. Thought you were gone forever, and now…” Dean broke himself off to huff out a one-breathed laugh, his eyes remaining closed for a second before they flicked up to stare into Cas’s own. “I have you, Cas. And you want it too, I know you do.”   
  
Cas said nothing, just sat and stared at Dean through wide, panic-stricken eyes. It wasn’t so much that he was scared _of_ Dean, but… he didn’t know how to gauge the situation. The man before him looked like Dean, spoke like Dean, _smelled_ like Dean, but-.. he couldn’t shake the unease within him, knowing that Dean was now a demon. He had never been given answers about what had happened to Dean, not knowing if he was actually still himself beneath the debris of hell. But Castiel could see just enough past the blemished interior to see that somewhere, albeit hidden, there was Dean. Dean as he once was; loyal, caring, selfless, cloaked beneath a veil of evil. Cas tried to speak, but before he could, Dean was kissing him again, that bitter, sweet taste filling Cas’s senses once more.  
  
Dean’s hand continued to fumble with the waistband of Cas’s pants, unthreading his belt as he popped the button, allowing Cas’s erection to slip up past the hem. The kiss only lasted a handful of seconds before Dean moved his head, planting kisses on Cas’s chin, down to his collarbone until he stopped at the juncture between the angel’s neck and shoulder. He remained in that spot, tongue flicking and teasing against the taut skin as his hand expertly worked against Cas’s cock through the fabric of his underwear, his thumb occasionally grazing over the end, forcing Cas to groan quiet and low in his throat. As Dean’s tongue scraped and glided, he intermittently sunk his teeth down into the flesh, not aggressively but enough to elicit tiny jolts of pleasure through the surface of Cas’s skin, right down to his core. He groaned against the rival sensations in his neck and groin, tilting his head back and losing himself in the moment.   
  
After a couple of minutes of the same routine, Cas felt a warmth seep up through his lower abdomen, his breath quickening as his erection twitched against Dean’s hand. He knew an orgasm was imminent if Dean carried on at this pace and he tried to warn the hunter by panting against his ear through gritted teeth, arching his back slightly as he rocked his hips. Dean continued to bite down into his neck, his hand working quicker and harder before everything stopped.   
  
Dean’s hand pulled away, he rocked back on his heels and just sat staring at Cas, breathing labored but steady. He wiped his mouth against the back of his hand, eyes boring into Cas with a look of sinister mischief.   
  
Cas was left panting, his breath slightly audible on the exhale as he was left on the brink of orgasm, his cock pulsating beneath his boxers in sync with his hammering pulse. He was so desperate for release that he went to reach his own hand down to his cock but before he could even get close, Dean leapt forwards and pinned his arms down to the bed, his face hovering just inches above Cas’s, chests crushing together. Dean donned of his cocky smiles as he rolled his hips against Cas’s and for the first time, Cas noticed that Dean was as hard as he was.   
  
The next few moments passed Castiel in a flurry of clothes and bare flesh. He allowed Dean to snag and tug at his remaining clothes until he was laid naked beneath the demon, eyes full of hunger, staring as Dean himself began to undress. The next thing he knew, a naked Dean had regained his position back on top of the angel, gripping his wrists above his head, faces inches apart apart, their bodies parallel to one another, chests crushing together. Against the weight of Dean, Castiel was finding it difficult to breathe, not only from the pressure but also from a toxic combination of fear and a sick kind of thrill.   
  
Had this happened to Castiel 2 years ago, he would have probably gone into the situation much more carefully, being on the alert to anything happening that could potentially compromise his life. But laying there, in that moment, Dean on top of him, Castiel did not care for the dangers. If Dean suddenly gutted him with his own blade, then Castiel would have been okay with that. The truth was, Castiel was ready to die. He had been scouring the earth for so long, not only for Dean and his grace, but also for a purpose. The thought that Dean had always been his purpose had kept him going, but looking up into the grotesque, contorted image of what Dean used to be, Castiel had found that his hope was dwindling by the minute. At least if he died then, he wouldn’t need to suffer through the pain of knowing that his best friend was a demon, not having to be the one to pick up the pieces when Sam found out nor see the looks on the faces of Dean’s friends when they learned the truth. No, Castiel was not scared of dying. He was not scared of Dean killing him. In a way, he kind of hoped that it would happen. At least he could die happy, in the arms of the man he cared the most for, lived for… _loved_.  
  
He did not trust Dean not to kill him but there was a small part of him that hoped that despite the demon blood coursing through his veins, he had retained a fragment of his humanity. Castiel hoped that Dean remembered what they once were, what it was that they shared, and those thoughts would spare him his life. He was ready to die, perhaps even welcomed it, but he refused to seek it out. He wouldn’t allow himself to actively throw himself into a situation that he knew could be potentially fatal, but if it were to happen on accident, then he wouldn’t put up a fight. But he still would have preferred to live, if that was an option. And looking up into the familiarity of Dean’s eyes, still green and flecked with gold as opposed to black and lifeless, Cas’s intention of staying alive clung on.  
  
He was disallowed to think any more on the matter, Dean either sensing his apprehension or growing weary of hovering with nothing happening. The demon pulled himself backwards so he was sat in Cas’s lap and pulled Cas’s wrists up with him so the angel was sat upright. He was too busy looking up into Dean’s eyes to notice that a hand had snaked its way behind his head and before he knew it, there was something warm pressed to his lips, unlike the lips that had been pressed there before.  
  
Castiel was only given a second to look down and see that it was Dean’s cock right before his mouth before the hand behind his hand pushed it towards Dean, the head of his dick pressing firmly against Cas’s closed mouth. Dean was fully erect and throbbing, Cas being able to feel the pulse against his lips as a thin trail of pre come coated his lips. The pressure forced him to gasp and as though awaiting the opportune moment, the entirety of Dean’s length slipped into Cas’s mouth, grating against his teeth until it reached the back of his throat.  
  
The taste was strong in his mouth, almost overwhelmingly so, the pre come coating the back of his throat and Cas suddenly realized what that stale, sweet scent was that filled the room when they had entered. The combination of the taste and the pressure against his throat caused Cas to splutter for a moment, every part of his mouth enveloping Dean’s cock, making breathing practically impossible. His lungs screamed in protest, already weak and feeble from his current condition and for a fleeting moment, he thought he was going to either choke or suffocate. He jerked his head to the side slightly in protest but every attempt to pull away was met with Dean’s hand pulling him closer, forcing him to take more of Dean into his mouth.  
  
Tears streamed down his cheeks and he continued to cough and gag, but Dean relented, pushing and pulling and thrusting as he moaned and sighed against the sensation, and at one point, Cas managed to raise his eyes to look at Dean’s face and saw that he was smiling. Not a sweet smile, but a sinister one, one born of domination and sadism. After a few moments of struggling, Cas managed to maneuver his position into something more comfortable, a way in which he could breathe at least. He was facing Dean square on, allowing the demon to thrust in and out of his mouth and he quickly learned that if he shifted his tongue to graze against the underside of Dean’s shaft with each thrust, he was able to part his lips and steal a gasp of air each time the demon pulled back.  
  
As much as Castiel was not particularly enjoying the experience – a part of him wished that Dean would place his hands on him once more, realizing that his own dick was still erect and leaking traces of pre come along his stomach – he relented, unsure of what it was that he was supposed to be doing, but each time he shifted his tongue or lips and was met with a groan of pleasure, he continued the routine, tongue teasing and grinding, grazing the tip of Dean’s cock with a coy flick every so often, resulting in those guttural growls being emitted from Dean, the same ones he had heard back in the bar when he had placed his hand upon Dean’s shoulder. But when he looked at Dean’s face, it did not look demonic; it looked flushed with arousal, satisfied. As though fucking Cas’s mouth was the one thing left in the world that would bring him any kind of satisfaction. And it hauntingly warmed Castiel to know that he was having that effect on the demon.  
  
Despite the activity not being overly pleasurable for Castiel – he was being drawn further and further away from his own orgasm which each thrust – he couldn’t deny that he got a strange sense of satisfaction knowing that something he was doing was pleasing Dean. He had spent so much of his time since being on earth trying to please the older Winchester and saw this as just another of those things. In his mind, it was no different to when he assisted Dean on hunts or would run errands for him. The activities themselves may have been different but the outcome was exactly the same: pleasing Dean. There was also a small part of Castiel that clung on to the hope that if he satisfied Dean enough, he would either spare his life or regain some of his humanity. Regardless, Castiel persisted on the task of giving Dean what it was that he wanted. And from the look on his face (which Castiel kept stealing glances to), he could tell that Dean wanted nothing more in that moment than Cas.  
  
He did, however, allow Dean to do most of the work, pulling his head towards him as he thrusted into Cas’s mouth, Cas himself only really trying to elicit more gasps, grunts and groans in an attempt to make the whole situation over as quickly as possible. Castiel didn’t care for physical intimacy, given that he was killed after the only time he had experienced it previously and the thought that history was likely to repeat itself was honestly kind of a buzzkill. He had been tempted to reach his own hand down and pleasure himself, but as the time progressed and the thoughts flitted through his mind, he found his libido failing and the desire to touch or be touched was dimming by the second. He would have been grateful when the whole thing was over and he grew relieved when he heard Dean’s breathing quicken, his grip behind Cas’s head become almost intolerably rough, the groans becoming louder and louder until Cas was certain that anyone passing by would be able to hear them. He focused on working his mouth, sealing his swollen lips tighter around Dean’s cock as he allowed his tongue to track the length, flicking a few times against the head. He even tipped his head down once or twice, forcing Dean’s head to scrape against the soft flesh on the roof of his mouth, feeling Dean twitch a couple of times before Dean uttered one last, sharp gasp and released his grip on Cas’s head, pulling himself away completely.  
  
Cas squinted his eyes up at Dean, bewildered at why it is he stopped when he was clearly so close to release. Dean just looked back down to Cas, smiling sweetly, his entire body glistening with sweat. Before Cas could move or even speak, Dean emitted that low growl once more and flipped Cas over so he was laying with his stomach flat to bed. He felt Dean’s presence behind him, the demon’s front slotting neatly against the curvature of Cas’s back. A hand looped around his chest, pulled him up into a kneeling position and before he knew it, there was hot breath next to his ear, whispering to him in a voice which he did not recognize.  
  
“You’re mine now, angel. I’ve wanted this for so long. And finally, you’re going to give it to me.”  
  
The remaining time Castiel spent inside Dean’s motel room was a blur of pain, writhing and sweating. He had sex with Dean, there was no other way to state it. He had let Dean fuck him mercilessly, take away his virginity and it had not been a gentle experience.  
  
Dean had been like a different person, arguably not like a person at all. It was as though the second he caught scent of Cas’s sex, he turned rabid, his animalistic impulse reigning champion over any last lingering threads of humanity he had left. He had forced himself inside of Castiel, barely touching him with his hands, the only touch he allowed were flat palms against his hips, occasionally pulling them backwards towards him so that he could push himself further inside.  
  
Castiel had tried to switch himself off from the situation but Dean had disallowed that, barking words and phrases to Cas which would snap him out of his trance, occasionally ramming himself against Castiel so hard that the angel thought that something within his vessel had been damaged.  
  
The pain had been almost unbearable, causing Cas to beg Dean to stop on numerous occasions but the demon was unforgiving, forcing Cas through it until it was finally over. Castiel got through it by gripping the bed sheets, biting down against his lower lip and allowing his mind to wander to happier times with Dean, the times when he had felt that they were at their closest. He remembered the night Dean took him to a strip club, the night before they thought the world was ending. He remembered drinking beer with him in the bunker, conquering Purgatory together. That first embrace after Dean found him in the wilderness. They were all happy memories and they allowed Castiel to escape the torrent of pain if only for a moment, before he was yanked back to reality by an unforgiving thrust or fingernails clawing his sides.   
  
It felt like it had gone on for hours but upon looking at the clock on the wall, Cas concluded that it had been a maximum 30 minutes. Every minute felt like an eternity when he had Dean inside of him, thrusting and tearing away at him, stripping him of his pride, integrity and most importantly, the strength of his grace.  
  
The activity had enervated him and Castiel had actually found himself almost falling asleep after it was over, curling up on the bed. Dean had not touched him again the way he had before; once Dean had climaxed, it had been over. The experience had been too painful for Cas to reach climax himself, pain outweighing any pleasant feelings. He considered the possibility that he would not have climaxed if they had continued for hours, given the intensity of it. Despite the pain, however, it had not been something which Castiel hadn’t particularly enjoyed. The first time he had sex, he had felt a connection, a closeness to the other person and it was the same when he was with Dean. The entirety of the time they had spent having sex had blinded Castiel with white hot pain, but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the bond that they shared in that moment, Dean inside of him, as though they were two halves of a whole being united at long last. But it was only short lived. After curling up, Castiel felt himself begin to doze  – or pass out from pain, he wasn’t sure which – when Dean grabbed him by the shoulder, hurling him up onto his feet and slinging his clothes at him, ordering him to leave before Crowley returned and found him there.  
  
Castiel did as he was commanded, hurried along by Dean, left unable to ask any questions about what happened or what would happen in the future. He wasn’t even given chance to obtain Dean’s number and within 10 minutes of finishing their sex, Castiel was seated behind the wheel of his car in the parking lot, intending on driving back to the bunker.  
  
As he drove, he was overcome with emotions. There was still a small part of him that was relieved to have found Dean, but that seemed to have been hidden, masked beneath a feeling of guilt, of fear… and also of mourning.  
  
Castiel considered the possibility that the Dean Winchester he once knew was dead, his soul completely enveloped by hell and twisted beyond repair. Because the Dean Winchester that he had just spent the past few hours with was barely even human, let alone the person he once knew. He may have looked and sounded like Dean, even had remnants of his soul, but Dean would never behave in such a way, never dominate Cas like that before discarding him like yesterday’s trash.  
  
No, the entire car journey back to the bunker was rife with mourning. Mourning for the Dean that he had lost, and planning.  
  
Castiel was aware that both Sam and Dean had a cure for demons; he had seen how it had worked on Crowley. He plotted how he would obtain the ritual to carry it out and considered trying it himself. He decided he would not get Sam involved; not yet. Sam needed not to know exactly what was happening with Dean in that moment. As much as Castiel rarely made the best decisions, he concluded that it was the best decision to keep Sam in the dark about Dean. Ignorance would have been preferable and Castiel honestly believed that it would be easier on Sam thinking that his brother was dead than knowing the truth.  
  
Which is why Castiel had set out to find the cure and use it on Dean without Sam knowing. But in order to do that, he would have to keep track on Dean’s location, which he silently kicked himself for when he returned to the bunker. He knew that Dean would not stay in the same place for long and he had not managed to get a hold of his number.  
  
However, his luck seemed to have turned when he received a text message at 3:41 the following morning.  
  
_“Foot of the Mountain Motel. Boulder, CO. Alone. Now.”_

 

* * *

_Please kudos/comment if you enjoyed~ This chapter really took a lot out of me xDD_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter was a long time coming xD  
> This is the first time I've ever written hardcore smut before (way to ease myself in, amirite) so comments are always welcome~  
> Let me know if you enjoyed or if there's anything I can do better.  
> Also, special thank you to BlackCatRunning who offered to be my smut beta xDD <3


	3. You Found Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Cas eventually veered the car into the parking lot of the motel, he switched off the ignition and just sat for a moment, watching as the clouds huddled over above him and droplets of rain began to patter against the windshield, only a few at first but then more in quick succession until water was cascading across the car like a sheet. A shaky hand reached up to flick the wipers before realizing that the engine was off; in all honesty, Cas was just stalling for time, his pulse hammering as his stomach churned, a sick apprehension welting up inside of him. He felt the same before each meeting, never knowing what was going to happen, if this would even be the last time that he saw Dean, or saw anyone. He wondered if it would be the day that Dean killed him, or at least capture him.

That was the first time that Castiel had seen Dean in his current… _‘state’_. He hoped that’s what it was; a state. A phase in which he would escape from, like a sickness that would pass with enough rest and nurture. And Castiel intended to be the one to give it to him.  
  
It wasn’t unknown that they had managed to obtain a cure for demonic souls, being able to return them to their human state. They had already proven that it had worked on Crowley and on the surface, it seemed pretty viable; obtain some purified blood and inject the host with enough to render them human. It _sounded_ easy, but Castiel was not convinced. He had witnessed Dean’s strength, his power and his determination to continue on as what he was throughout the days in which he had seen him and upon uttering a wet sniffle into the sleeve of his trench coat, he wasn’t convinced that his state of health would allow him to overpower the demon, even if he tried. Not to mention it would be impossible to obtain the blood which he needed without rousing Sam's suspicions. He knew it had to be done, but the minor details had not yet been worked out. He would formulate a solid plan, of that he was certain, but as it stood, his time was too consumed with seeing Dean and hiding the meeting from Sam.  
  
That first meeting had given Cas a flooding of emotions. The entire ordeal had been toxically pleasant, and despite the pain and reluctance of it, Cas found himself not opposed to returning and reliving the experience. Dean had not been how he usually was, not offering Cas any kind of quick wit, humour or pop-culture references – all things which were trademark to Dean’s personality – but beneath the dim exterior of Dean’s true being, somewhere hidden underneath, Cas could see _Dean_. He could see the soul of the man he once knew, knowing that he was in there somewhere and whilst being with Dean as he was in that condition wasn’t the most enjoyable, Cas couldn’t deny that he found himself wanting to be with Dean, no matter how he was treated in return. The urge to please and protect Dean never left Castiel and it did not matter to the angel how he achieved satisfying the demon. As long as Dean was happy, then that in turn made Castiel happy, regardless of the pain or turmoil it inflected upon himself.  
  
While Cas considered that he kind of enjoyed the experience, the truth was that no part of it was enjoyable for him at all on a physical level. It was rough, agonising and unforgiving, leaving Cas feeling like a used plaything after each encounter. He was never given any form of reciprocation from Dean, and the truth was - aside from those fleeting initial moments of their first encounter - he did not wish for it. He did not crave any form of sexual satisfaction to be given to him from the demon and struggled to understand why it was so important to Dean. He had witnessed humans procreate since the dawn of time and had always assumed that it was the reason for the action, but he had long since learned that humans partook in the action for recreation. Cas knew it could be momentarily pleasurable but he did not wish for it in any sense and couldn’t help but feel that Dean was using him for his own sick sense of pleasure. But then Castiel started to wonder why. Why would Dean want Cas to keep going back to him when he clearly had his pick of basically any person which he desired? Cas had suspicions that Dean had been doing the same things with Crowley as he had been doing with the angel, so it got him considering all the possibilities why Dean kept asking him specifically to return.  
  
He held on to the hope that despite everything, there was a part of Dean that was clinging on to what they once were, a small flame burning inside of him, longing to have Cas back by his side. It would explain why Cas was used so often – practically every day – but it did not account for why he was discarded as soon as Dean had gotten what he wanted, which was inevitably sex.   
  
Cas was unsure of Dean's feelings towards him but he knew that they shared something special and knew that what he felt for the hunter couldn't be completely unrequited. They had been through so much, from saving the world to sharing one drunken kiss a couple of years ago that Castiel had been banned from speaking of ever again. Despite Dean's caginess, Cas knew that they shared something, regardless of what it was, that was different than what he or Dean shared with any other person. He thought that if he could rekindle that emotion, that memory within Dean, then maybe he would realise what he was doing, what he was missing.   
  
There had been several meetings since that first encounter, and each one had played out the same way; they met, sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn’t, they had sex, Cas left until Dean texted him again demanding to meet and the cycle continued. Not only was it physically draining for Castiel but it was also emotionally exhausting. Cas’s feelings were been tugged and toyed with every single day, and each meeting brought with it refreshed feelings for Dean, stronger determination to have him cured and also fresh lies to be concocted for Sam. Because Castiel had decided that he would not tell Sam about Dean’s condition, nor that he knew of his whereabouts. He knew the Winchesters too well and knew that if Sam caught inclination that Dean was alive, then he would not stop until he found him, not to mention that he would do what he could to capture him and cure him as soon as possible. But Cas did not want that. Not just yet.  
  
He had devised his own plan, considering that if Dean was reminded enough about who he was and what he and Cas had, perhaps he would regain some of his humanity. He clearly still cared for Cas, lest he wouldn’t keep asking to meet so it wasn’t totally outside the realms of possibility that he would be able to beat his plight and return to his old self once more.  
  
Cas knew that it was unlikely, probably impossible, but he had to at least try. He had witnessed the after-effects of what the blood-ritual had done to Crowley and he did not wish that upon Dean if it could be helped. He knew it was painful and emotional and did not wish to bring any harm to Dean, despite the pain he had brought to the angel. So perhaps demons born from the Mark were able to overcome their damnation, potentially reversing it, if they were just shown enough love, compassion and humanity to ‘un-taint’ them.  
  
That very thought was what kept Cas going back day after day to see Dean. He would have rather not taken part in the… _activities_ which happened between them, but maybe – just maybe – if he made Dean happy enough, his soul would be purified and rid of all traces of hell without having to be captured and injected until he was within an inch of life.  
  
The last time that Cas had seen Dean gave him a new confidence that it was possible, the two of them having sat and spoken about what had happened. Dean had told Cas about being killed by Metatron, awaking to find Crowley at his side with a new, budding feeling inside of him which almost ordered him to go with the King of Hell. He had described it as a darkness, an evil which he couldn’t escape and the longer that he talked, the longer Castiel began to believe that Dean did not want this, that the evil inside of him had taken over and corrupted him against his will and it gave him more determination to try to overcome that evil with purity and kindness. If Castiel gave Dean what he wanted, his soul may have been purged of all that was corrupt within it, love reigning champion over evil. Those thoughts got Cas through each sex-session with Dean, focusing on the fact that Dean wanted it, Dean needed it and Dean needed to be shown that someone loved him enough to potentially sacrifice themselves for him.  
  
That session had been especially grueling, leaving Cas exhausted and in pain. He had barely made it back to the bunker in one piece, having felt his eyes lull closed as the car swerved into the path of an oncoming semi on the journey back. Luckily, he had awoken with enough time to swerve out of its path but it had been a close call. By the time Cas got back to the bunker, he had ignored Sam completely and crashed on his own bed, sleeping through until he was awoken at the usual time by his phone buzzing on the nightstand which he had placed there moments before passing out.  
  
It had brought him to the present moment, driving the car to Boulder, Colorado to see Dean once more. It was so early in the morning that the sun hadn’t even begun to rise, the sky still being stained an inky black, dotted with stars and a few wisping tendrils of blue-grey clouds. It was a peaceful morning, nothing and nobody on the roads, everyone being tucked up in their beds or finishing their late-night breakfast after their night shifts. It was a calming serenity for Castiel to drive through, almost like the calm before a storm. Because he had a sick, sinking feeling in his stomach that the meeting with Dean would not be as ‘pleasant’ as their previous encounters.  
  
Each meeting had gotten progressively rougher, Dean becoming more violent each time. Cas could still feel the aching bruises around his wrists from the previous day, being neatly concealed by the fabric of his coat. His neck still burned and ached from the vicious bite-mark that Dean had offered just hours prior, actually piercing the skin and coaxing out some blood. It hadn’t been particularly deep, but given the bluntness of human teeth, it had taken a lot and had hurt a great deal, still causing Cas some pain whenever he turned his head to the right. Eerily, the blood seemed to please Dean more than Cas had seen before and it mildly terrified him to think about how much more blood he would need to shed in order to completely appease Dean. Not that it really mattered; whatever Dean needed, Cas was willing to give him and it wouldn’t exactly be the first time that he had bled for a Winchester.  
  
As Cas eventually veered the car into the parking lot of the motel, he switched off the ignition and just sat for a moment, watching as the clouds huddled over above him and droplets of rain began to patter against the windshield, only a few at first but then more in quick succession until water was cascading across the car like a sheet. A shaky hand reached up to flick the wipers before realizing that the engine was off; in all honesty, Cas was just stalling for time, his pulse hammering as his stomach churned, a sick apprehension welting up inside of him. He felt the same before each meeting, never knowing what was going to happen, if this would even be the last time that he saw Dean, or saw anyone. He wondered if it would be the day that Dean killed him, or at least capture him. He wondered what would become of Sam if he was gone, having lost his brother and the angel all within the space of a week. It made Cas want to turn around and return to Sam, knowing that they would both be safe but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow himself to. Despite his apprehension, Dean was all that mattered to Cas in this life and he would have given anything for him, regardless of the hunter’s feelings in turn for him. He would find a way to save Dean somehow, of that he was certain. He just needed to find either the right help or the right amount of energy to be able to complete the task.  
  
Forcing himself up by thoughts of curing Dean, Cas opened the car door and stepped out into the rain, being soaked through in a matter of seconds. His legs trembled beneath his as he shouldered a cough, pulling his coat tighter around him against the biting Colorado wind. His hair soon stuck to his forehead, rivulets of waters trickling down his face and neck, forcing his shivers to accentuate. He felt weakened without the contention of the biting wind and pouring rain, but coupled together, he struggled to even keep himself upright, but he relented, slamming the door behind him and trudging himself forwards, each step heavier than the last.  
  
By the time he reached the motel door, Cas balled up a fist and knocked twice, his hands suitably numbed by the chilly early-morning temperature. As he stood waiting for an answer, he muffled a breathy sneeze into the sleeve of his jacket, the remnants echoing around him like the shadows of a whisper. It left him sniffling, feeling completely enervated and when the door finally opened, Cas found himself almost collapsing into the arms of the person who answered.  
  
The warmth of the inside hit him instantly, forcing him to shiver harder against the alteration in temperature but he kept himself sturdy, squinting against the light and trying to focus on the figure that had emerged before him.  
  
He forced himself to speak against the rawness of his throat, sniffling back beforehand in an attempt to clear his nose enough not to sound sick. His attempts failed, however, his voice thick and weighted from fatigue and congestion. His vision spotted as he continued to squint, adamant to focus on the fuzzy edges of Dean Winchester.  
  
“Hello, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this definitely took a long time xD  
> I hit that annoying wall where I know what I want to write, but whenever I try, it comes out as something that I don't like, which is annoying. BUT at least there is something here~!  
> It's nowhere near as long as the last chapter (honestly, I don't think any of the following chapters will be) but hopefully it will be good enough~  
> I'll try and update as soon as possible, seeing as I'm trying to tie up all my unfinished fics as soon as possible because I've signed up for DCBB this year, so when that starts properly, that will be occupying all my spare time, but I plan on getting this finished before then. We shall see.  
> Anyway, I hope everyone likes this part~! Sorry not much is happening, this is my attempt at setting things up xDD  
> Thanks for reading ^^


End file.
